The Swan
by Morninglight
Summary: Part of Tales of the Aurelii. Aurelia Swan-Neck has lived through three Ages and is likely the only non-Thalmor person to have known Talos. But what becomes of the oiran who outlives her Dragonborn?


Note: Head-canon/background for the minor but pivotal character Aurelia Swan-Neck in Teyye do Aurelii. Lots and lots of metaphysical head-canon and some spoilers for background if you squint hard enough. Triggers for implied forced prostitution/child abuse.

…

Talatha combed out her daughter's long black hair, so different from the still-gold curls which fell from a prominent widow's peak to her waist. Where the pureblood Altmer was willowy with high-boned features, her Akaviri-sired daughter was subtly curvaceous and flat-faced, her slanting marigold eyes more narrow than Talatha's huge orbs. Sometimes she missed Takeshi, eighty years dead. But that was when the nights were cold and long, the Heartguard unsympathetic. As more Colovian and Ra Gada seeped into the core bloodline, the Akaviri restraint slipped a little further each generation. Soon enough, the clan would stoop to breeding with Nords, and all hope would be lost then.

"I don't care what this man orders of you, you're not bearing his child," she commanded Swan-Neck, so named for the graceful shape of said body-part. Talatha mourned the political fallout from Ayrenn's ascension that drove her father to the Psijic Order and her into the arms of Versidue-Shaie, only to be gifted to Takeshi for exemplary service. But Takeshi Aurelius had been kind as he could manage, the Dragonguard training rendering him stoic and distant; she wondered what he would think of her daughter being sent to the newly revealed Dragonborn as a gift.

"Yes, mother," she murmured obediently. In the intricate robes of the Aurelii oiran, her sash embroidered with a red dragon to show whom she belonged to, she looked the best of Altmer and Akaviri. If only…

Talatha squashed the thought and kissed her daughter on top of her head. "You will be fine. I am told Hjalti Early-Beard is civilised for a Nord; Lucius wouldn't lie to me about this. Not if he valued his life."

"Caius would though," Swan-Neck pointed out shrewdly. "Mother… why must I do this?"

"Because I'm told it would be good for the clan and that this Dragonborn has an elf fetish," Talatha admitted bluntly. "But… if he harms you, my daughter, the clan be damned. I value you more than some mayfly mortal."

Swan-Neck looked at her mother with such painful relief it nearly broke Talatha's heart. Such were the things Aurelii women were driven to in order to protect the clan…

…

Hjalti Early-Beard was kind. He was patient. And Swan-Neck knew that he was in love with her. Knowing the attitude of men towards mer, it would be the first of many secrets she would keep close to her heart. Even when he took the human bride and bedded Barenziah the Dunmer Princess (with whom the Altmer found a strange friendship that lasted all their days), he still loved her. But the task of conquering Tamriel wore him down, grinding away the impurities to reveal the diamond heart that served him all his days, and when he perished just past a century old she wasn't surprised to see a new star in the sky that night.

_To each Dragonborn is an oiran._ Traditionally the oiran, erroneously called 'courtesans' but in reality highly trained concubines taught to balance the dominating tendencies of the Dovahkiinne, died with their master – but Talos had asked her to stay behind. _"I know I ask much of you. But the things Akatosh has revealed to me… If the dragon's blood fails and the barriers between Oblivion and Nirn fall, we are all lost. If you stay, you will see the last oiran and the last Dragonborn. I know I ask much of you. But I ask this of you because there is literally no one else I can trust."_

And so Swan-Neck remained, grieving every heartbeat for her Dragonborn and longing for the moment she could join him in the stars.

…

"…She's a fucking oiran. She's _Martin's_ oiran. You have got to be fucking kidding me."

There were three times in Swan-Neck's life that she forgot herself enough to curse. The discovery of the loutish, foul-mouthed Norc thug Aurelia Northstar as the bastard Septim's oiran was one of them.

Jauffre, a still-handsome Imperial Blade who had risen to become one of the rare non-Aurelii Grand Masters, nodded with a rueful smile. "He followed her out of Kvatch with nary a protest. And even in his darkest moments, she is there to comfort him. I'm as surprised as you, my lady, but they actually fit together rather well."

"Talos must be spinning in the stars," she observed with a sigh.

"Or raising a mug to them. He was always fond of… unconventional pairings." Jauffre smiled again, this time warmly. Even now, she still got admiring glances, even if her sheer age perturbed many men.

He wasn't Talos. He never would be. But he served Him and that was enough for Swan-Neck in this moment of mad clarity. She reached for him, hands twining in the thick rough cloth of his monk's robe, and drew the Grand Master closer.

Gods, but she was alone.

…

Marius was gone and Swan-Neck stared at green eyes which gleamed with a canny febrile light. Like her, Northstar had survived the death of her Dragonborn, but unlike the Altmer had chosen to continue fighting with every last breath. She was a brilliant Grand Master but none could ever forget she was insane.

Julius Martin Aurelius carefully sprinkled sand over his missives to dry the ink. Quiet and shrewd, he had his father's soft, calm voice and Northstar's bronze skin; he was another secret locked into her heart. A new dynasty had arisen and after the Oblivion Crisis, Swan-Neck felt that caution was the better part of valour. Northstar, thank Talos, had agreed with her.

"He's our only truly loyal Altmer Blade," Northstar rasped. The frailer her body became, the brighter her gaze burned. "If we don't get into the Thalmor _now_, we will never be ready for them. And they'll come. Too much is riding on it."

"If he's caught, they'll bind him into a black soul gem to power a magicked latrine!" For once in her life, Swan-Neck begged. "Please, bring my son back home."

"No." Northstar's voice was flat. "I remember you caning the soles of my feet because I ran around too much. Call me a bitch, but I like the idea of you grieving for a change. Proves you have a fucking heart."

"Mother, Swan-Neck has watched all she loves fade and die," Julius chided gently. "You should remember that in your dealings with her."

"We have both outlived our Dragonborn," Swan-Neck reminded the Norc mercilessly. "But unlike you, I will rejoin mine."

"And here I thought the oirans didn't stoop to low blows. How nice to know you're an Aurelii under all that paint and silk." Northstar's grin was savage. "At least I will be having too much fun as the Madgoddess to watch the return of Alduin."

"By the Nine!" Julius rose to his feet, blue eyes contemptuous. "I'm going to spar. You two can tear strips out of each other without me."

"Have fun, kiddo." Northstar's expression softened a little. Mad and bad, she at least cared for her son. "Remember: knee to the balls wins every time."

He grinned, the expression so _Aurelii_ it made Swan-Neck's heart bleed, and vanished. He had the best qualities of both parents. It was a pity he'd never see his true birthright.

…

"She's… tall."

"That's the Nord blood in her," Swan-Neck said carefully. Nearly two hundred years since the death of the Septims and now an old man who knew too much about lineages was enquiring about oirans.

Aurelia Too-Tall, now resembling a civilised human being instead of a semi-feral Khajiit, knelt obediently. Dar'saad had raised her in as much of the Blades' tradition as he could but she was still wild. Swan-Neck's heart ached for the cruelty she'd have to inflict on the girl, but it was necessary. The signs of the last Dragonborn's coming were all around and she had so little time left to prepare for it. Irkand was… unsuitable. Rustem was gone. All she had left was this one turquoise-eyed girl: her last gamble, her last hope.

Titus Mede grunted and Swan-Neck mourned that he was no Hjalti Early-Beard. But as all Aurelii women did, Too-Tall would endure with a sweet smile and lightness in her voice. Swan-Neck expected no more or less of her cygnets than she did herself.

…

Swan-Neck looked down at the boy in the midwife's arms and sighed in relief. He was strong and healthy, made so by all the magic she could beg, buy, borrow and steal, and would serve his purpose. As did all Aurelii.

_"A river can be split into many streams but in time it will become a river again,"_ she murmured in Akaviri, tracing ancient birthing sigils onto the boy's forehead. _"All things live and die and live again until they fulfil their purpose. You have been spun out again for a purpose. I pray you fulfil it before Alduin eats the world."_

"What the hell is that?" demanded Titus Mede querulously.

"It's an Akaviri blessing," Swan-Neck told him soothingly. "He is, after all, half-Aurelii."

"Don't pretend your clan is equal to mine!" Titus snapped.

Swan-Neck regarded him with a cold smile. "I don't have to."

_Let him read the insult implied there._ By the Nine that they were reduced to working with such a man…

Titus scowled but said nothing. He still needed the clan. Even shattered, they were still descended from the Akaviri, still spies and thieves and yes, whores. Even Swan-Neck didn't think herself above pleasuring angry men who wanted revenge on Altmer flesh. Northstar's barbs had made their point: she was Aurelii and therefore nothing was beneath her.

_Soon, Hjalti, soon,_ she thought fervently. _I will see you soon._

…

Swan-Neck's heart was breaking.

Lia (she couldn't think of the woman as anything else, she'd made that name so thoroughly her own) was resting her forehead against that of the slightly taller Nord who Esbern claimed was the Dragonborn. He was a man in his late thirties to early forties, long face worn by heartbreak and grief, golden hair threaded with silver. Handsome in a stern, beak-nosed kind of way, clad in a rough grey homespun robe over more practical shirt and breeches, his Voice rumbled with the Thu'um beneath a resonant accent so similar to Hjalti's. They were speaking in Dovahzul, a language that Hjalti had never bothered to educate Swan-Neck in, as a small white dragon – a dragon! – watched interestedly.

"Farkas came up with some good ideas. Can you believe it?" the Dragonborn – whose name was Balgruuf, apparently – asked with a grin, glancing at the tall, oxlike Nord with dark hair who carried the dreaded Wuuthrad once wielded by Ysgramor.

"He comes up with more than you," Lia countered with a chuckle.

"Wanna run away to Riften an' have a dozen kids?" the Harbinger teased. "We could hitch the cart to Tay. He's so little he could pass for a carthorse."

"Even if I were the size of a housecat, Kaanigrohiikkendov, I would still have more brains than you," the dragon retorted.

"I actually know Alfiq who'd agree with you there," Lia laughed.

"Alfiq?" Balgruuf's eyes narrowed curiously.

But Lia simply shook her head, smiling. The woman held many secrets from her Khajiit days. "I'm not telling you what they are. Irileth's paranoia would hit the moons and beyond."

"…Good idea." Balgruuf sighed, rubbing his nose. "So, High Hrothgar will hold a formal truce meeting for the enthusiasts on both sides. Any idea of what we should do?"

"Run away to Riften with Farkas and have eleven kids?" Lia asked lightly.

"Not _with_ him, I hope. He snores."

"And you don't?"

"That isn't snoring, that is my Thu'um."

"I thought you were fartin' from all the beans," Farkas said crudely.

"No, that was _you,_" Lia corrected dryly. Blue-green eyes slanted to the side, easily finding Swan-Neck standing by the juniper tree. "Yes, Swan-Neck?"

"Have you seen Gold-Lily?" She needed to impart one or two necessary secrets to her daughter before… things happened.

"She's talking to Vilkas, of all people," Farkas supplied helpfully. "An' he's actually talking back. It's amazin'."

"Gold-Lily's three-quarters human," Lia explained gently to the perplexed Balgruuf. "She's always been fascinated by outside cultures; when I arrived in Bruma, she interrogated me for hours about life amongst the Khajiit."

Since Lia's order that the girls were to be oiran, Blade, both or none as they wished, Gold-Lily had become unmanageable. She stopped winding her hair in the traditional knot unless it was necessary; she was training in the dai-katana; and much to Swan-Neck's quiet horror, worshipped Lia like she was an Aedra made flesh.

…Swan-Neck remembered another little girl who liked to run barefoot in the grass and inwardly wept. Custom and law and circumstance and the years had trapped that child in an ossified shell of paint and silk. Much to her cringing shame, when Lia's eyes met hers, she saw understanding in the blue-green orbs.

"You should join her," the Grand Master suggested gently. "Vilkas is the Chronicler of the Companions and loves to talk history – when he isn't being an ass in need of a ball-kicking."

"History?" Tay's ears perked up. "May I join them, Grand Master? The Kriisfahlil looks like she would have many tales to share."

"High elf," Balgruuf translated absently. "Forgive me, my lady, but there are things which need to be discussed and yours are not the ears to hear it."

Swan-Neck knew command and dismissal when she heard it. If Esbern was right, this man had once been a ruler; she saw much of Hjalti in him, but a Hjalti who'd not turned to diamond, a Hjalti who would not become Talos.

"As you wish," she murmured.

"Oh, for the love of the Eight and One, woman! Take your damned shoes off, lose the pins in your hair, and ditch the outer robes," Lia suggested in exasperation. "That rule about the girls having choices applies to _you_ as well."

Swan-Neck was already tugging her hair out of its knot, closing her eyes against the tears that threatened. Northstar had been mad and bad… but for a moment, the Altmer had seen Julius and his philosophical son Arius, the Aurelii men who were steel behind silk. She'd compared Lia for so long against the last Norc the clan had hosted that she'd failed to see the differences, only the surface similarities.

She wasn't sure if it was compassion or something else that drove Lia to make her suggestions, but Swan-Neck didn't care. She kicked off her slippers, lost the cumbersome outer-robe, and ran inside with the dragon Tay on her heels.

And when she reached the table where the warrior sat, she saw Esbern – old, wiry Esbern – sitting there. He looked up and smiled. "Swan-Neck! Welcome! Let me find you a seat-"

"Esbern, if ever you have loved me, for the love of the Nine call me Ralinde. It was the name my mother gave me."  
Gold-Lily looked at her with some surprise. "We're to use our secret names?"

"Yes, Celede, we are." They were Aldmer names, old ones that Talatha had given her.

"Thank the Nine!" her daughter breathed. "Not all of us can carry Lia well."

"You wanted to share the same name as the woman who kicked me in the balls?" Vilkas, a leaner, sour-faced version of Farkas, asked incredulously.

"Knee to the balls always wins," Celende retorted sweetly, quoting Northstar.

"Steel behind silk," Esbern murmured with a chuckle, smiling at Ralinde… How strange, how easy it was to think of herself with that name instead of as Swan-Neck.

_Oh Hjalti, I wish you'd known Ralinde,_ she thought regretfully. Soon, perhaps, he would.

But until then, she would live for herself, not for him.


End file.
